


Lockdown

by HannaSedai



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Drama, Gen, Suspense, and sneaky plans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 06:31:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9479483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannaSedai/pseuds/HannaSedai
Summary: Who is this kid, what's he gonna do?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm the most terrible at cross-posting on FF and A03...I apologize. I'll upload the rest of In Too Deep and Infiltration, and in the meantime I'll post this because I have no self-control.

Chapter 1  
6:34am  
First hour

Dick awoke to silence.

He couldn't quite call his slumber true sleep—he spent most of his nights tossing and turning, unsure what was dream and reality. Everything blended together, save for those rare moments he caught sight of things stranger than his real life. Of shadowmen who sat at the foot of his bed, rustling the bedclothes while he lay there, immobilized, unable to do anything but endure.

Not that it differed much from his everyday life. He opened his eyes, crusted with sleep, and saw the unmoving gears above him. Dick shifted on the workbench, his back aching and his bones creaking. His throat felt coated in grease; he shouldn't fall asleep in the welding room. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He wiped it away, his other hand searching for a bottle of water.

"Wake up."

Several fluorescent lights flickered on, blinding him. Dick sat up, his head throbbing slightly, last night's inadequate sleep weighing down on him. He blinked at the lights, wondering why the gears weren't moving.

"Looking for this?" Slade handed him his water bottle, the metal top dented from years of abuse.

Dick grabbed it, uncapping it and chugging. Even the water here had a metallic taste, not quite washing away the constant grime hanging at the back of his throat.

"You stink. Take a shower." When Dick didn't move, Slade pulled him to his feet by the collar and shoved him towards the door. "Now."

The air conditioning hit him as he entered the hallway, and he became aware of the sweat plastering his shirt to his back, and how he smelled of gasoline. Dick made his way to the bathroom, ignoring his reflection as he turned on the shower. His hand rested on the fan, though he did not turn it on. Better to let the steam roll in, create mold problems. Whatever.

Once he finished, he leaned over the tub, plugging it up and allowing the tub to fill with clean water as far it would go. He shut the shower curtains. No one would think to shower until tomorrow morning.

He dressed quickly, choosing sensible clothing he wouldn't mind wearing for a few days—sweatpants, athletic top, a zip-up sweatshirt he hated. Today it didn't matter, so long as it kept him warm. Dick shaved quickly, silently wondering when he had grown enough to start. He rinsed the shaving cream from the razor, and pocketed it.

Dick took a deep breath, the warm steam from the shower calming him. There would be no turning back this time. The deed was already done, and even if he wanted to he couldn't stop events tumbling forward.

Exactly how he planned: chaotic.

He left the bathroom, propping the door open so whoever went in there next wouldn't complain about the foggy windows. Excess steam rolled into the hallway. He glanced down the hallways. Like Alfred, Wintergreen would know if he hadn't turned the bathroom fan on and would berate him. He couldn't have that. Not now.

Dick opened his bedroom door and tossed a bundle of dirty clothes onto his unmade bed. Didn't matter now. He left this door open too, shoving a steel-toed boot between the door and the doorframe. At this point the door didn't autolock anymore.

"You're late," Slade said as Dick made his way into the kitchen. "Stop sleeping in the welding room."

Dick pulled a bowl of bland oatmeal towards him, scanning the table for the bowl full of blueberries. "Not like I get enough sleep anywhere else."

Well, maybe he shouldn't have slept there. His back was aching something terrible, as though berating him for choosing a workbench over a perfectly good bed. It didn't matter where he slept anymore anyway—Slade just wanted to be a dick.

"However," Slade said slowly, considering each word, "you seem productive." He pulled a tablet resting on the table towards him, unlocking it swiftly. He accessed one of his many apps—jerk didn't even acknowledge that Dick had to help him with that—that monitored the Sladebots. "You fixed that annoying glitch. Good. It was irritating."

Dick chewed methodically, the food tasting bland even when mixed with berries. One of Slade's major updates—installed in all Sladebots at once—caused a malfunction, putting most of the bots out of commission. Dick spent hours trying to fix the code. Old as they were, the bots were prone to malfunctions these days, hence why he often fell asleep in the workroom.

He finished his meal quickly, ignoring most of Slade's commentary, his heart hammering in his chest. Dick topped off his water bottle at the water cooler, his eyes darting around for anything he could put in his pockets. Dick darted out of the kitchen, leaving his dishes sitting on the table, before anyone could say a word.

A whiff of cool air met him as he scampered into the main room, wide and open, a shaft of light shining through the sky window above. He slammed his hand against a control panel, and the giant wall screens flickered on. He shifted through the channels until they rested on the one he wanted to see the most. He stood in front of them, his eyes glued to the bloodstreams.

"And just what do you think you're doing?"

Slade followed him into the room. Dick's eyes darted around the room. He had to trust his memory, trust the blueprints he had been studying for years. Trust in his own innate talent that he wouldn't fuck this up. He knew where it was. He hoped he did.

Dick shot like a bullet towards the other end of the room.

"Hey!"

He didn't have to turn around to know what Slade was doing. Dick increased his speed, going into a dive as Slade punched a control panel. Lights and sounds blared as metal doors began slamming down, the main exit closing down first. Of course, Slade would suspect that he'd try to escape first. But Dick wasn't going there. He skidded underneath the door, reaching into his pocket for the razor. He forced himself to keep going, knowing that he wouldn't make it to the other end of the living quarters, and shoved the razor underneath the door in front of him.

He hissed as the skin of his fingers caught in the metal, though it did not break skin. The razor—he used an electric one, not those cheap disposable things—crunched under the weight, leaving behind an inch of space. He rolled to a stop, breathing heavily as the door struggled to close, then stopped. Those things weren't meant to harm—merely delay.

Dick looked back down the hallway, listening for Slade to come closer. Even though Dick had said nothing, Slade was sure to figure out what he was doing before long. He had Dick cornered. There was no way out, not unless he fought his way through Slade. Dick waited, not hearing anything, his heavy breathing giving away his position.

What was Slade waiting for?

Not wanting to find out, Dick went to work on the door, intending to hack the control panel before Slade made his way in. The radio control to the nanoscopic probes was in Slade's office. He didn't need to get that far, not today. Just one thing, and he'd be done. Out of this nightmare. And he had to do it today.

Because he found a cure to the probes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**8:54pm**

**Six Months Earlier**

"The trichogramma wasp is an egg parasite who lays its egg in those of other pests," the dry narrator said. "Common hosts include most kinds of moths and other insects considered pests in a gardener's home. Larvae pupate inside the host egg, emerging as an adult in 6-9 days and continue to mate and lay eggs."

These parental blocks on the tv were so annoying. Dick struggled to keep his eyes open as he watched the tiny insects on the screen. The flickering television light kept him awake. Slade was out of town this weekend, which meant Dick had more time to himself. Too tired to read a book—or do anything else really—he had resigned himself to the animal channel. One of the few delightful entertainments he was entitled to. This wasn't even Planet Earth kind of good. Dick slumped on the leather couch, yawning as he watched the wasp lay an egg inside a moth egg. Gross.

"Gardeners who vouch for organic control or integrated pest management use the trichogramma wasp to control large moth infestations, such as spring or fall cankerworms, before they can hatch. To properly control the infestation, the wasp must be released during egg-laying periods or before the caterpillars emerge. Otherwise, the wasps will leave the area in search of other hosts."

"Oh my god," Dick said. "Will, can you please buy Slade a Roku? Or a Chromecast? The boxed DVD set of Planet Earth? This is awful."

"Why are you asking me?" Wintergreen emerged from the other room. "I don't watch TV."

"It would be nice not to watch Animal Planet every single time he's out of town. If I steal the whole boxed set of Clash of the Planets can I at least watch that?"

"I think we have that somewhere in the back."

"Yeah, right."

A nagging thought badgered him as he sat there, not doing anything to escape. Nearly every day when he wasn't training or sleeping, he conspired. He studied the nanobots when he could, learning everything Slade asked him to and beyond, all for the sake of finding something he could use. But today, though Slade's absence made it a perfect night for subterfuge, all he wanted to do was fall asleep on the couch.

He laid down, too tired to even argue, and listened to the narrator talk about the trichogramma wasp, knowing his dreams would now be full of the parasites.

"The trichogramma wasp is an excellent method of organic control. After the trichogramma have left the infected area, the remaining pests emerge as adults, and are left vulnerable to the area's natural pest control."

**7:02 am**

**Hour 2**

_It's way too early for this._

He regretted choosing the workbench as a bed, but it didn't matter how much sleep he got. Eventually he'd run out of steam and function completely on adrenaline. He looked up as a familiar grinding sound echoed through the Haunt. Slade had turned the gears back on. Someday, Dick would find out what they did, or if Slade just liked the aesthetic.

A Sladebot pummeled into Dick as he worked on the control panel, knocking him back onto the hallway floor. Where the hell did that come from?!

He twisted around, searching for its weak points, trying to get it off him. Instead of fighting back, the Sladebot sat on him, pinning him with its monstrous weight. Other Sladebots joined in, combining their weight to crush him. Strong he may be after years of training, but Dick couldn't move hundreds of pounds of metal and wire.

Dick bucked under its weight, fighting to wrestle his wrists free as they surrounded him. He glanced up at them, those featureless faces so familiar to him. Didn't these things realize that he had spent hours fixing them up? What kind of robot attacked its master?

A lump suddenly formed in his throat. Between the metal doors and the bots, a foreign feeling crept over him, shivering free from his spine and effusing every bone in his body. The air tasted stale, and his mouth went dry. He kneed the Sladebot, earning himself a knee to the stomach.

"Fuck…" he breathed, flexing his fingers, wanting to strangle something.

A light flickered above him. His eyes shot towards the bot pinning him down, whose face opened, revealing a camera inside. This model must be one of the older ones—the one Dick fought on that rooftop so long ago. Slade's image appeared. He was still in the main room, he hadn't moved away from the control panel.

"Like I said, I am grateful you fixed the glitch," Slade said, tapping his goateed chin thoughtfully. "Why don't you wait there, and we'll talk this out. Whatever it is."

Dick continued to struggle, cursing himself for wasting so much energy. If the other rooms had bots, he wouldn't be able to take them all down. Not in an enclosed space like this.

"Feeling a little claustrophobic, are we? Not to worry, you'll be out in no time."

Slade moved away from the camera, though it didn't shut down. He was monitoring him, as he always did.

"Get off," Dick growled, even though he knew he was just talking to a robot.

The Sladebot didn't budge. Dick could only move his head. Think, think! He spent most of his time working with the stupid things—he volunteered to. How else could he could close to Slade's nano technology?

Sensors.

He looked at their dark eyes, so void of life. Dick hacked up some boogers at the back of his throat and spat at them, earning him another knee to the stomach. Boy, he shouldn't have fixed that glitch yesterday!

"I assume," Slade said, stepping through the open door. "There's a logical explanation for this." He waved a hand. "Let him go."

The Sladebots got off him. Dick took one look at Slade and dashed towards the end of the hallway just as Slade opened the door, kicking away the razor that had blocked it.

"It's a dead end, idiot," Slade said.

Dick launched himself at the metal door, blocking off Slade's quarters from his, and bounced off, flipping himself over Slade. He felt like a sprinter, constantly running the same track as he ran yet again towards the main room. The familiar grinding of metal on metal sounded again as Slade ordered the door down.

This time he wasn't so lucky. His hood caught in the door, nearly strangling him as he fought with the zipper. In a few seconds he fumbled out of it. He really did hate that thing.

"What are you doing?" Slade sounded genuinely befuddled. Good. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Why the fuck do you think I'll do that?"

"Stop with the language."

Maybe Slade thought he had finally gone bonkers. It wouldn't be the first time he had tried to calm Dick down. He sensed something was off this time, and Dick's erratic behavior confused him.

"Put the Haunt out of lockdown!" Dick shouted.

"What?"

"I'm leaving! I'm done!"

Slade furrowed his brow.

Dick gesticulated towards the front door. "I'm done."

"You're not done."

"I think I am."

"You don't stay here for three years and suddenly decide to leave. Do you want me to push the trigger?" The trigger appeared in Slade's hand.

"Do it." Dick never thought he would say those words out loud. He visibly flinched as Slade's thumb moved, regretting this immediately. Even saying it as an act of defiance was unnerving.

Slade paused. He turned the tv screens back on, his gaze never once breaking away from Dick's. He reached out and grabbed Dick by the collar, pulling him towards the screens. The bloodstreams look as they always did.

Slade looked at Dick, and then back at the screens. His brow furrowed, his mind working more furiously than the gears above them. He shoved Dick in front of the screens and put away the trigger. Slade reached out, turning on some kind of command that allowed him to zoom in on the bloodstreams. He searched the video feed for several seconds, searching for something he could not see.

They looked just as they always did. Nothing had changed.

"Will," Slade said into a walkie, "we'll be in lockdown until this is cleared up. It shouldn't take long, but just in case—"

"Understood."

"You and me," Slade said, pacing in front of the screens, "are going to have a little chat."

"Fine. I have nothing to hide."

Dick understood that he wouldn't escape today. All other escape attempts had proved futile—even if he wanted to leave, regardless of the Titans, Slade wouldn't allow that. So Dick did the only thing he could do: play Slade's game. Without the Titans helping him he wouldn't be able to escape.

Slade stopped pacing, the lights from the screen illuminating his ominous figure. Three years ago Dick was terrified of him. He still was now, though that fear manifested it in other ways.

"Let's take a tour of your room, shall we?" Slade grabbed him by the arm and pulled him forward. "If you try to hide anything, then your friends will pay for it."

They hurdled towards the living quarters, the other hallways sealed off. Dick couldn't help but feel claustrophobic as he looked at the metal doors. He had been in lockdown before. That's how Slade sealed him off like a caged rat. Even the sky window was blocked off. Dick could only hope that his plan would work. All he needed was a little time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any theories please let me know! I love theories. :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**11:32 pm**

**24 hours before**

Calm down. Let's take a step back.

Dick's plan began at precisely 11:32pm the night before, out on a mission for Slade. He encountered the Titans on his way back from the contract—just as expected. Dick skidded to a halt on the rooftop, his grip tightening on the stolen technology.

"Stop!" Cyborg's voice carried far over the open air. "Come on, Rob!"

"We don't have time for this," Slade whispered in his ear. "You know what to do."

Why did Dick stop? He couldn't afford to pause, to allow himself a weak moment. His gloved hand flexed once before he pulled out a gun. The Titans stopped, wary. They knew what would happen if Dick failed to shoot them—after all these years, it would be idiotic of them not to figure out the nanobots. They knew they were being held hostage against him—against each other. He wouldn't shoot to kill.

"Come on, man," Cyborg said.

"I'm sorry."

As he made his getaway he turned away and shot each of them in turn—one, two, three, four. One shot for each. It slowed them down, though whether from the shock of the gun or no hesitation, Dick didn't know.

"Good work," Slade said. "No hesitation. You're getting better at this."

Slade praised him for shooting without hesitation, even if he did not aim to kill. That part would come later.

What Slade didn't know was that each round was loaded with something else, and by virtue of obeying a cruel order Dick could save his friends' lives. It wasn't enough to stop the bots, but enough to buy time. Enough to keep his friends from dying.

All Dick needed to do was give them the keys to their own salvation. He would deal with the mercenary asshole. Assuming the Titans were just hanging out at the Tower the next morning. Assuming Cyborg didn't think he had gone crazy. Assuming that they Titans still haven't given up on him. Assuming this, assuming that. Whatever. He just had to act on the assumption that everything would go to shit.

* * *

 

**Hour 3**

**8:41 am**

Except for the pile of dirty clothes on his bed, Dick's room was neat and organized. An army man through and through, Slade never accepted messiness. Bereft of possessions, Dick's room held only the essentials. It wasn't as if he collected souvenirs and hung them on the walls. He watched impassively as Slade ripped open the mattress with a knife, the bedding flying everywhere. Empty drawers lay on the floor, their contents dumped into piles. Dick sighed. He'd have to clean up Slade's mess.

"Are you done?" Dick leaned against the wall of his small room, his arms crossed over his chest. "I'd really like to leave now."

Slade saw right through Dick's act, and understood that he had some ulterior motive.

"You're not going anywhere," Slade said, turning around. He grabbed Dick by the collar and shook him. "What the hell did you do?"

"Nothing."

Of course it wasn't nothing. It never was with Slade. He grunted as Slade lifted him and shoved him against the wall. Pain shot through him, jolting him awake. As if he wasn't already in this early morning hour.

"You're going to tell me what's going on or else your friends will pay."

"And what if I haven't done anything?" Dick asked, winded, his face twisted into a grimace. "Let me leave."

Slade hadn't given the order to unlock the Haunt. Until he gave the order, he was just as locked in this part of the facility as Dick was. Just as he had always done whenever Dick tried to run, Slade wouldn't rest until he found out why Dick wanted to leave. Why Dick was looking at the bloodstreams moments before he arrived in the main room, why he was trying to run away without first addressing the nanobots.

It was, perhaps, a fault on Dick's part. A mistake. But he didn't know what else he could do in this situation, a situation where his captor could anticipate his every move. Every single thought, every tactic was anticipated, seen through before Dick could even anticipate it himself. That was why he left misleading clues everywhere, from the waterlogged bathtub to the razor in his pocket.

Slade slapped him. "You're not leaving until you explain yourself."

"And I'm not saying anything until you let me leave." Dick shrugged. "Besides, I didn't do anything."

Slade shoved him once more again the wall before dropping him. He looked back at the messy room, snorting in anger. What, was Slade stupid enough to think that if Dick were planning an escape, then why would he hide something in his room?

Bored, Dick turned and left the room. He walked calmly down the hallway, his mind working furiously. Once Slade figured out what was going on he wouldn't let Dick leave. He barely registered Slade's heavy footsteps as the mercenary thundered down the hall. Before Slade could tackle him, Dick spun around and swung an uppercut at Slade's face.

"I'll keep you locked up here until you go crazy," Slade breathed, moving closer as his heavy fist barreled towards Dick's stomach. "Until I know what you're up to."

In the three years Dick had resided in this miserable excuse for a secret lair, he had only ever experienced a real lockdown four times. Two times were for security reasons—some of Slade's disgruntled colleagues found their way to Jump City and tried to break in. A lockdown allowed Slade to organize his defenses and eject them promptly from the premises. The other two times Dick was up to no good. Once, a panicked escape attempt, with no forethought and fear of being beaten igniting his dash to freedom. The second, a calculated attempt to lure the Titans here. Wasn't too great. Dick could do better.

"I told you exactly what I'm doing, Slade," Dick replied, blocking Slade's punch. "I'm leaving."

"You can't just leave."

"Why not? You said I could."

"Not like this, you little shit."

"Oh, I see." Dick stood still, holding his eyes contemplatively behind his back. Shocked, Slade had no time to stop his momentum. His knuckles grazed Dick's face. Dick fought the instinct to flinch, instead gazing at Slade seriously. "Maybe I wasn't explaining myself right. I was trying to leave before you initiated the lockdown. You misunderstood me…I said you could do it, right? You could kill the Titans."

Dick breathed heavily, never taking his eyes off Slade for one, single second. He held out his hand. "Let me do it."

"What?" Slade's single eye widened.

"We're in lockdown. I'm not going anywhere, as much as I want to. If this trigger is the only thing keeping me from leaving, then by all means…" Dick waved at Slade to come closer, his finger pointing to the trigger in Slade's hand. "Let me do the honors."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHO IS THIS KID WHAT'S HE GONNA DO


	4. Chapter 4

Slade looked at him, his one eye drifting towards the trigger in his hand. His fist curled around it, and a frown tugged at his lips. "Why?"

"I swear there'll be no funny business," Dick said, his hand still outstretched. "I'll do it. What am I going to do, run away?"

But that was it, wasn't it? Dick deliberately initiated a lockdown so they could have this standoff. Now the real game would begin.

"Let's entertain the idea," Slade said, tucking away the trigger back into his gauntlet. "I'm all for it, of course."

"And…?"

"Well, this is such a pleasant surprise that, quite honestly, I wasn't expecting it." A thin-lipped smile appeared on Slade's face. "Before you do the honors, why don't I show you how they works"

"What, the nanobots?"

"Of course. You've been here for so long, you deserve to know how they work."

Dick's expression did not change. How could it, when he had trained himself to hide his emotions the past three years? "Does it matter at this point? I'm going to kill them anyway."

"Oh no, I insist." Like Dick's impassive expression, Slade's dubious smile never left his face. "Aren't you the least bit interested? I never did quite explain the bots to you, did I? Surely, you can wait a few more minutes. After all, they've been waiting for three years."

He knew.

Dick didn't want this thought to invade his mind, but it did. Slade was too smart not to figure it out. All of Dick's planning would be wasted, the Haunt put into lockdown without good reason, and Slade would wear him down before beating the crap out of him. But how could Dick know for sure? Slade was just of an enigma as he had always been.

"Fair enough," Dick said, shrugging. "Show me."

Hour 4

9:05 AM

Five minutes felt like five hours. Dick sat in the main room at a table, his fingers tapping restlessly on the tabletop.

He did not trust Slade, and he was certain that Slade did not trust him.

Slade was watching for any recognition, any sign that Dick understood the nanoscopic probes more than he was supposed to. Dick wasn't supposed to know anything about the nanobots, and yet he was supposed to know about Slade's technology. Quite the conundrum.

The situation had, at this point, turned into a game. Neither of them quite understood what the other was doing, but maybe that was the point.

Slade turned on the large television screens that, as always, showed the Titans' bloodstreams. There were many channels showing many different things, such as security camera feeds around the Haunt, news channels, and the occasional hidden cameras inside Titans Tower. Their light cast Dick in a reddish light, and although the sound was turned off he could almost hear the blood pumping through their veins.

As he sat there, he looked all around the room. He had never been in lockdown quite like this before. Usually he was trying to escape, to find an exist, but now he didn't want to. He already knew that he couldn't escape just by running away, so instead he used this opportunity to study his surroundings. Metal doors shut every exit, including the entrance he had used to get into the Haunt in the first place. Sladebots hung back into the shadows, their robotic eyes glinting at him. The light from the television screens was enough to illuminate the second floor above, where one of Slade's many workshops resided. Slade must like working in this wide open room, with the gears surrounding him, the sky light above him, and the television screens monitoring everything he could possibly dream of.

"Thank you for your patience," Slade said as he slid into the seat across from Dick. "I suspect you've been impatient to do this for while, haven't you?"

"Not impatient, no," Dick said, leaning forward and placing his hands under his chin. "Just biding my time."

Slade held up a small bottle. At a glance there seemed to be nothing in it, but as the liquid caught the reddish light Dick understood what it was.

"These nanobots are microscopic," Slade said, brandishing a bottle at him. "Small enough to enter the bloodstream through a small wound, and undetectable unless they're activated. They latch onto the blood cells, fooling the body into think it's part of them, until it's time to strike. And, as I'm sure you're aware, they cause the victim to die a slow and agonizing death. Because they're spread throughout the body, it is impossible to deactivate them entirely when they've already been activated. If you decide to push the trigger, I won't give it back to you. I won't allow you to stop it if you change your mind. The Titans will die, and your decision will be final. Is that what you want?"

"What I want?" Dick raised his eyebrows. "It doesn't matter if the Titans live or die. I told you, Slade, I don't care about the Titans. I just want to get out of here, and right now the Titans are just in my way. Cut out the drama and just let me go."

Slade nearly jumped out of his seat, his large hands slamming onto the table as he leaned over to snarl in Dick's face. "Don't be stupid. You know you can't leave just because you want to."

"Why not?" Dick spat, his eyes narrowing. "You said I could leave whenever I wanted to, but the minute I did you would kill the Titans. Well, guess what! I don't want to be here anymore, and I'll kill the Titans if I have to." He glanced at the bottle of undetectable nanobots on the table. If he were able to, he would inject himself with them. If the Titans were going to die, then he would die with him. If that really was the only way out, then he'd rather die than continue to live in this nightmare. "So give it to me, and let me leave!"

Slade leaned forward, and stuck his face uncomfortably close to Dick's. He reached out and grabbed Dick by the collar of his shirt, immobilizing him. "I don't think so. You're not going to leave, even if you do kill them. Not until I find out what you've done to the nanobots."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.
> 
> A/N: Since so many people asked...yes, the summary and other quotations are indeed Hamilton references. I am a big fan of the musical, as well as the Ron Chernow biography. It is, in fact, due to that very biography I was able to build my magic system for my fantasy trilogy :)
> 
> BTW, thanks to all FF folk who responded to my beta reader call for original work back when I announced it in an Infiltration update! I'll be opening up a second round after revisions, so if you want to join in drop me a message! I currently have two alpha reader circles going on, one for the big bad epic fantasy book and another for ASOUE-inspired historical YA fiction, so pick your poison if you want to read more stuff in between FF updates. I've set up ways for you to read my stuff without you giving up your email to me!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and don't forget to leave a review and tell me your theories! I love theories :D


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm shocked, Slade," Dick said, raising his eyebrows. "You don't trust me? Well, I'm not surprised. After all, I don't trust you. And what did you tell me about trust? It takes time to build." He took a deep breath, trying to pretend the stale air was fresh, and that he was anywhere but here. "So, what does it take, Slade? For us to trust each other?"

"Don't do that," Slade said. "You can't outthink me."

"I'm not trying to. But something tells me that you won't trust me, no matter what I do or what I say, even if I'm sincere. It's not so much about trust I guess…because this attitude doesn't benefit you."

Slade was still pissed, Dick could tell. At times the mercenary was an enigma, certainly, but one didn't spend so much time with someone without learning a thing or two about his idiosyncrasies. A word which here means, "all of Slade's manipulative tactics, mind games, and the occasional indulgence in _Clash of the Planets_ marathons." It didn't take much effort to make Slade mad, and for the long three years Dick had been under his care, he had avoided the triggers. Until now.

"And why do you think so, smartass?" Slade asked.

"Because if you truly want a business partner, an heir to your criminal empire, then what did you expect to happen after the Titans died? What would get you to really trust me? I thought killing the Titans would be the ultimate task."

Dick hated every moment of this. He hated pretending to act like Slade—talk like him, act like him, think like him—but Slade needed this. He needed to see what sort of monster he had created.

"Well, you didn't expect me to let you leave, did you?" Slade sneered.

"Of course not. Why do you think I'm talking to you now?"

"What do you want?"

"I'm not trying to lie. I'm telling the truth: I want to leave, and if I need to kill the Titans, then I'll do it."

One of the Sladebots came up to them, carrying a box. It set it on the table between them, and as it opened the top, Dick realized that it was full of his things. The laptop he used to work with models for the nanobots. Files upon files of blueprints he had created were stored here, blueprints he had created on Slade's demand to begin learning how the technology worked. There were, of course, missing pieces—Slade couldn't have him learn all about the nanobots right away. But Dick could fill in the holes. That was the challenge, then, wasn't it?

Slade laid them out methodically on the table and arranged them by date, and placed them alongside his own designs. Dick watched him, knowing all the while that the answers Slade sought would be evident in seconds.

"Your designs are smaller than mine," Slade pointed out, gesturing to Dick's first model.

"I don't have the resources you do."

"Your latest batch is missing."

"Aren't you glad I used them? Wanted to make sure I got the job done."

"You were cleaning the guns before you left on the mission last night."

"So what are you suggesting?"

"You admitted that you used your latest batch of nanobots on the Titans last night."

"I used your base design. All of the materials you gave me. There wasn't much room for variation with what I had." Dick shrugged. "Do you want to look at the molds I used?"

A low, irritated growl came from Slade. Dick could practically see his frustration grow as he looked at the blueprints, wondering where the flaw was. Slade had approved all of these designs himself, and he knew that he had overlooked something. Made a mistake that allowed Dick to slip by.

"They're designed to attach themselves to blood cells," Dick said. "Just like yours. They even have your insignia on them." He pointed to the television screens. "It seems to me, Slade, that we're in quite the predicament. Do you trust my work enough to believe that I can create an antidote?"

Dick held his breath. If there was one thing never to provoke, it was Slade's massive ego. The only constant thing in this relationship. Everything else revolved around it. Slade always believed that he was the superior one. He always made sure he had the upper hand, always dictated Dick's schedule, and always had the last word. To doubt his own superiority and admit he was _wrong_ would upset the delicate balance he had created between them.

"It doesn't matter if you're able to or not," Slade replied finally. "Because it doesn't change us. Whether or not you kill them, we're still in lockdown. You will still serve me because I _own you._ I created you. I can take you far, far away from your friends. They already think you've defected. They won't trust you anymore."

"So, you do think I'm smart enough."

"I wouldn't have chosen a stupid apprentice."

"But what if I'm wrong? If, as you say, I managed to do it, then it wouldn't matter anyway since I'll still be working for you. But if I screwed up—then the Titans will die, and you'll be rid of them."

All the while, Dick couldn't keep his eyes off of the trigger. All he needed to do was push that button, and one of his many problems would be eliminated. Upon activation, Dick's nanobots would detach themselves from the Titans' blood cells and attach to Slade's nanobots. They would, like the trichogramma wasp, inject the invader with a mechanism that would cause enough damage to short-circuit it. They would continue to lay the eggs of healing until they no longer functioned. There weren't enough to completely heal the Titans, but enough for them to live.

All this, Slade would eventually figure out, if he hadn't already.

The air was heavy with tension, blanketing around them and nearly smothering Dick. If Dick had had his way, he would have injected himself with nanobots to force Slade to a decision, but dying wouldn't do anyone any good. He couldn't rely on the idea that Slade would save him. Slade frowned.

"You don't get to dictate when the Titans will die. If you're so eager to kill them yourself, why don't you do it in live combat? Don't do the coward's way with the trigger."

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

"The coward's way?" Dick asked. His heart pounded loudly in his chest—at least, that was how it felt to him. "I don't see it that way. Why the coward's way? I thought it was a matter of convenience. After all, wouldn't killing them in person just waste time?"

It took Dick so long to adopt this way of thinking. Talking like this made him feel just as slimy as Slade, but he had lots of practice. It was impractical not to act, not to think like Slade when it was so vital to his survival—to the Titan's survival.

"I don't trust you," Slade replied.

"Well, then, aren't we in a bind?" Dick held out his hands. "It's been three years. I don't know your game plan, but if we're going to work together then what was it? How long did you really plan to keep them hostage?"

Dick berated himself for not thinking of this sooner, although he reasoned that he wouldn't have been able to think of such a delicate plan at fifteen as he could now, at eighteen. He was a little older, a little wiser, and perhaps a little smarter.

"As long as it's necessary."

"Such a pain in the ass to upkeep, isn't it? The nanobots, I mean. Your tech's getting old—they're in need of an upgrade."

Back then Slade had to utilize the controller he created—now Slade could end the Titans' lives with a phone app.

It took all of his self-control not to flinch as Slade picked up his laptop and slammed it on the floor. Bits of wire and chips scattered across the floor, some of the parts landing on his shoes. It'd be a shock if Slade didn't order Dick to clean it up after this was all over.

"You did something to the nanonbots," Slade breathed. "Tell me what you did."

Although Dick knew that the laptop wasn't really his, and that all his work wasn't something he was proud of, he still didn't like Slade's rather annoying habit of destroying his possessions. Or his friends. Whichever came first.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Did I? But can you really be sure?" Dick was sure not to glance at the television screens. "I'm willing to work for you. More than willing, actually. I want to kill them, and I want to do that in the most efficient way possible…seems like you already set that up for me."

He barely had time to flinch as Slade backhanded him across the face. Here we go.

When Dick first started working for Slade he thought that Slade's temper was too wild to predict—it seemed like Slade got mad about the smallest of things. But like most things in life, that simply wasn't true. Slade was predictable. Dick wasn't certain if this predictability was contingent on the fact that he was Slade's student. After all, he had watched Slade torture people.

"Tell me what you did," Slade growled.

"That'd take the fun out of it." Dick wiped away a trickle of blood away from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Hit me again. I dare you."

Slade raised his hand, as though he wanted to take up Dick's dare, but then he paused. His one eye gazed around the room. Dick could see Slade's mind working through the scenario Dick had set up: Dick was goading him in a locked room, and knew that Slade could erupt into violence at any moment. Beating Dick to a pulp wouldn't do anyone any good. Despite the fact that Slade knew he was in control of the situation, he was suspicious. "I want you to kill them in person."

"Dammit, Slade!" Dick slammed his hand on the table. "What's more important to you? Efficiency or personal preference?"

To Dick's satisfaction, Slade's face twisted in bewilderment.

"If I'm going to work with you, then I need to call you out on your bullshit. It doesn't matter if I'm a hero or not—that's not how partnerships work."

"So why the drama?"

"You overreacted."

"I overreacted?" Slade asked incredulously. "You didn't have to initiate a lockdown to get me to talk to you."

"You're right. I didn't. But it did get your attention." Dick pointed at him. "Because there's one thing you have to know, Slade, if this is ever going to work out. I've done all I can to work with the conditions you've put me in. If you really want this to work, then it's your turn to change! You've said it yourself: trust takes time to build."

Slade stood quite still, as though this concept was foreign to him. At a glance it seemed impossible to believe that Slade could change—but Dick knew better. Slade would listen to reason if he was forced to.

"Neither of us will get anywhere unless we get rid of the Titans."

No matter the outcome—if the Titans lived or died—this decision had to be made. If Dick's plan worked, then he could finally move forward with his own plans. If it didn't, then, well…Slade could go forward with his. They were locked in a room together. There was no escape, no matter the outcome.

Finally, Slade handed him the trigger. He thought of crushing it just to spite Slade, but he couldn't afford any deviation from his plan. There was no turning back now, even if he was wrong.

"And if you're wrong," Slade said. "Then I'll be sure to break you down to fast you won't even know what hit you. Give me a month and I'll have you brining me my pipe and calling me 'Papa.'"

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves."

Dick looked around the room one last time. If there was one thing he learned about Slade, it was that he'd never understand Dick truly. He'd never understand this decision, and there would be hell to pay. Dick knew that from the beginning, and he was prepared to face whatever consequences Slade threw at him.

Dick looked at Slade straight in the face as he raised the trigger up to eye level, and pressed it.


End file.
